


talk fast, romance

by melk24



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Come Eating, M/M, Rimming, vacation sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-06 20:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15202817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melk24/pseuds/melk24
Summary: Ronan meets his gaze again, eyes soft. “Hey,” he says softly, reaching one arm out. Jon takes his hand without hesitating, and regrets it the minute he’s pulled off-balance, landing half on Ronan, half off. His face goes fully into Ronan’s shoulder, and he can hear him laughing, the bastard.“You’re not smooth,” he insists, even as he slides his knee between Ronan’s legs and leans up, squinting into Ronan’s face. “I don’t even have my contacts in, that was cheating.”Ronan just shrugs, settling both his hands on the small of Jon’s back. “You don’t really need to see,” he promises, leaning up to bump his nose against Jon’s cheek, his jawline. “You know where I am, right?”He doesn’t get to answer, because the minute he opens his mouth Ronan is there, slow and warm and gentle with his kiss like always, patient until Jon’s mind can catch up with what his body is doing.





	talk fast, romance

**Author's Note:**

> my first fic for this fandom!! i was inspired by their trip to the galapagos, and then it kind of spiraled. as always, edited by rhia, who pulls whatever mess i spew out into something legible.
> 
> title is from "talk fast" by 5 seconds of summer

He’s towelling off his hair when he steps out of the closet-sized bathroom into the rest of the space, and makes it two steps before his foot has a very unfortunate run-in with the leg of their bed. He hisses loudly enough for Ronan to look up, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he places a bookmark in between the pages. “You okay?” He says, voice echoing in the small room, and Jon holds up one finger, wincing even as the pain subsides.

“I’m dying,” he says, and he hears Ronan bark out a laugh. When he opens one eye, Ronan’s taking off his glasses and folding them up on the windowsill behind him, sliding down the end of the bed. 

“Jonathan.” He says, and this time Jon opens both eyes when Ronan’s hands land on his hips, firm and a little cold against his skin. Ronan’s thumbs dip beneath the fold of his towel, rubbing at the skin right above his thighs. “Do you need me to kiss it better?”

He wrinkles his nose up, trying not to laugh and failing, bending over until he can rest his forehead on Ronan’s hair, shoulders shaking. “Oh god,” he says between laughter, “have you been hiding a foot fetish from me this whole time?”

“I hate you,” Ronan says into his chest, breath drifting across Jon’s sternum. “You’re not funny, and the minute we dock again, I’m going home.”

Jon takes a half step back, just enough to meet Ronan’s eyes, although the other man has to tilt his head back almost entirely. “Of course,” he says, reaching out and touching Ronan’s jawline just because he can’t help himself, “where are you going to find a plane on an island with nothing but iguanas?”

“A finch is going to fly me home.” Ronan’s face stays straight for just a second, until Jon is shoving at his shoulder and he starts laughing even as he falls back into the mattress, laughing to himself as he stares at the ceiling. “A finch, Jon.”

“At this rate, you’re going to need a full army of finches to carry your big head.” Jon grouses, but Ronan pushes himself up on his elbows just enough to smile at him, and Jon’s knees go a little weak. He lets himself fall into the bed, knees pushing into the sheets. 

Ronan meets his gaze again, eyes soft. “Hey,” he says softly, reaching one arm out. Jon takes his hand without hesitating, and regrets it the minute he’s pulled off-balance, landing half on Ronan, half off. His face goes fully into Ronan’s shoulder, and he can hear him laughing, the bastard.

“You’re not smooth,” he insists, even as he slides his knee between Ronan’s legs and leans up, squinting into Ronan’s face. “I don’t even have my contacts in, that was cheating.”

Ronan just shrugs, settling both his hands on the small of Jon’s back. “You don’t really need to see,” he promises, leaning up to bump his nose against Jon’s cheek, his jawline. “You know where I am, right?”

He doesn’t get to answer, because the minute he opens his mouth Ronan is there, slow and warm and gentle with his kiss like always, patient until Jon’s mind can catch up with what his body is doing. Jon hums softly into Ronan’s mouth as the kiss deepens, pushing them both further back into the mattress until he can tangle his hands in Ronan’s hair, slide over to straddle his waist.

“Take this off,” Ronan mumbles into Jon’s mouth, tugging at the towel trapped between them, still tangled around Jon’s legs. “Off, come on.”

He moves his mouth to Ronan’s neck instead of answering, mouthing at the hollow under his jaw. Ronan’s hands fly to his shoulders, burning hot now, and his back arches a little, enough for Jon to slide his hands between Ronan and the sheets. It works for a few minutes, but Ronan doesn’t stay distracted for long, and before Jon even notices. he’s undone the towel from around his waist, yanking it from between them until Jon’s body is pressed up against Ronan, still in a ratty tee and his shorts. 

He can feel his face warming up, and keeps his head buried in the nook between Ronan’s shoulder and neck, sinking his teeth gently into the skin there. Ronan gasps every time, but he seems focused now, running his hands up and down Jon’s bare back, cupping the swell of his ass for a few seconds every time. “This feels off-balanced,” Jon finally says, slightly muffled. Ronan laughs anyway, sitting up easily, keeping Jon settled in his lap.

“Make it fair, then,” he whispers against Jon’s lips, and it takes all his self control to pull back and go for Ronan’s shirt, yanking it up over his head. His hair comes away from it ruffled, and Jon pauses for just a second to smooth it back down, but he gets distracted easily, hands sliding from head to cheeks to neck to shoulders to chest, until he’s thumbing at Ronan’s nipples. He feels Ronan shiver beneath him, and flattens his palms, biting harder at the muscle right at the top of Ronan’s shoulder.

“God,” Ronan groans, pushing at Jon’s chest hard until he slides back in Ronan’s lap. He pauses for a second, unsure where to go next, but it’s just so Ronan can get the button on his shorts undone, and Jon comes alive after that, yanking at the zipper and the hips until his shorts and boxers all come off at once, landing in a heap on the floor. Jon re-straddles him immediately, gasping every time the head of his dick bumps against Ronan’s stomach.

“More,” Ronan says, loud after their choked-off gasps, digging his fingers into Jon’s arms. “More, Jonathan, you’re killing me.”

He drags out one more kiss before laughing into Ronan’s mouth and sliding off him, watching as Ronan settles back into the pillows. He has an arm folded behind his head, and he won’t stop staring at Jon. “Shut up,” he says, elbowing at Ronan’s knee until his legs fall open, and Ronan laughs, delighted.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says, and Jon rolls his eyes as hard as he dares. spreading his hands as wide as they’ll go across Ronan’s thighs. 

He’s tan now, one of the benefits of moving to California, and it stands out against the pale skin on the inside of Ronan’s legs. He runs his thumb along the crease of his hip, watching as Ronan’s eyes flutter closed.

Ronan’s heel knocks into his back, and when he looks down, Ronan is grinning at him slow and lazy. “Jon,” he says, reaching his hand up just enough. Jon circles his fingers loosely around his wrist, returning the grin before laying down, propping up on his elbows. 

“Fuck,” Ronan breathes, and he goes just boneless enough for Jon to shift all the way down the bed and fit his shoulders under Ronan’s knees. “ _ Jon _ ,” Ronan repeats, hands tangling in Jon’s still-damp curls. 

“Yeah,” he says, and then he presses his face forward, breath catching as Ronan’s thighs tighten at the side of his head. He hears his gasps distantly, and digs his fingers deeper into Ronan’s skin, trying to get closer. 

He starts slow, circling his tongue around the ring of muscle, just teasing flicks more than anything else. Ronan sighs, soft and sweet, fingers scratching at his hair, a gentle presence at the top of his head.

He huffs into Ronan’s skin, pulling back just enough to make Ronan meet his eyes. “Hold my head down like you mean it,” he says, and Ronan rolls his eyes but he’s grinning. Jon drops a kiss to the inside of his thigh before bending back over again, and this time Ronan’s hands pull him forward, and Jon barely has a chance to get his tongue out before Ronan’s rocking his hips up.

Ronan tastes like clean musk and smells like salt and sex, and Jon can’t get enough. He presses his tongue flat as he picks up the pace, losing himself in the repetitiveness of it all.

He only stops when the crick in his neck starts to build, breathing hard as he lifts his head. It takes Ronan a second to notice he’s stopped, he thinks, because he sits up slowly, blinking down at Jon. “Lube,” he says, squeezing the meat of Ronan’s ass one more time, enjoying the way he rocks with it. “Left table.”

Ronan’s hand flies out, scrambling across the table until he finds one of the many travel sized lubes Jon had thrown into their bags right before they’d left. “Here,” he says breathlessly, tossing it down the bed.

He snatches it from where it falls amidst the sheets, right at Ronan’s hip, and resituates himself, shifting to get Ronan’s legs back over his shoulder. “Relax,” he says, mostly teasing, and Ronan groans.

He pops the cap on the lube and takes a second to warm it between his fingers. The minute it feels nice, he ducks his head back down, using his clean hand to spread Ronan’s cheeks. It’s easy to rediscover his rhythm, starting with soft, gentle licks until he can feel Ronan’s thighs start to shake.

He reaches up with his free hand then, keeping his tongue moving even as he slips the first finger in, just to the first knuckle. Ronan gasps, hands flying back down to Jon’s hair, pulling with just enough strength to cause Jon’s scalp to tingle. 

“Easy,” he says, pulling away just to catch a breath. He sinks his first finger in a little deeper, relishing the way he can see the muscles in Ronan’s stomach jump. “That’s it,” he croons, and Ronan’s groan turns into a laugh halfway through, one arm flying up to cover his eyes. 

He pauses for just one more second to soak in the view, but then he ducks his head back down, circling his tongue around the base of his finger. Ronan’s hips jerk for just a second before he steadies, and Jon smiles into his motions.

It’s easier after that to add another finger, Ronan sighing as Jon presses deeper, tensing up for only an instant. “S’good,” he slurs, soft and melodic from above the bed. Jon scissors his fingers in response, licking between them with a renewed veracity, and Ronan’s legs tighten, until Jon feels completely and entirely surrounded. 

He works his fingers until he can get his tongue in deeper, fucking in and out with a pretty decent rhythm. The sounds Ronan makes are echoing even as his thighs squeeze around Jon’s head like a vice. “Just,” he starts, pulling on Jon’s hair with some strength. “Just fuck me, Jonathan.”

Jon sucks hard on Ronan’s rim before surfacing, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand slowly, drying to make it look obscene. It must work, because Ronan’s eyes glaze over just a bit.

Ronan yanks and Jon can’t help but fall forward, lips crashing together with none of the finesse from earlier. Their teeth clack together, and Jon can feel Ronan’s tongue tracing the line of his lower lip.

He has to pull away first, still panting. “More?” He asks, and Ronan wheezes out a laugh, head falling back into the pillows. He’s flushed all up his chest and neck, lips red and swollen. He’s a fucking sight, and Jon reaches down almost absentmindedly to tug on his neglected dick.

“You gonna fucking stick it in?” Ronan says, and Jon snorts, unable to help the rush of fondness that swells in his chest. 

“There’s that Pulitzer prize writing I know and love,” he says, and Ronan’s answering grin could light up the fucking sun. “Smug asshole,” he adds, but he’s already pressing his palms into Ronan’s knees, trying to keep his legs open. “You gonna behave?”

“Fuck off, I’m perfect,” Ronan says, and Jon rolls his eyes as he lines up, nudging the head of his dick against Ronan’s rim, already a little puffy from Jon’s earlier work. That shuts Ronan up and his eyes fall half-closed, hooded.

He starts slow, but he can already feel Ronan tensing up, and it’s easy to take more lube in hand, slide two fingers back in easily before pushing in with a smooth motion, watching as Ronan’s mouth falls open wordlessly, back arching off the bed.

“Fuck,” he manages, and his voice is tighter than he expected, pitched a bit higher. He can already feel his release building low at the base of his spine, and he groans a bit as his hips stutter home.

His arms are shaking, palms planted by Ronan’s head, but he forces himself to stay steady, rocking his hips forward slow at first but picking up the pace, until he’s grinding into Ronan, steady enough to shake the bed in its moorings.

Ronan’s mouth is still open, and his head falls to the side, mouthing aimlessly at Jon’s wrist, tongue licking around the knobby bone right at the joint. “More,” he says, wet and hot, tilting his hips up just a bit, and the way his face falls slack is all Jon needs to see to know he’s close.

He rocks forward with renewed energy, bending his head down until he can scrape his teeth across Ronan’s collarbone, finding a bruise from a few nights earlier and fitting his mouth back around it, sucking until Ronan’s breathing breaks.

“Close,” Ronan gasps, and Jon pulls back, reaching up with one hand to shove his hair out of his eyes. Ronan’s pink all the way to his cheeks now, head tossed to the side, and when he opens his eyes slowly, Jon can see his pupils blown wide enough to make his eyes look entirely black.

He’s fucking gorgeous, and Jon can feel his stomach tightening, tingling all the way down in his toes. “Wait,” he says though, hand running down Ronan’s chest, settling at his sternum until he can feel the rabbiting beat of his heart. “Can you? Wait?”

He stills his hips to let Ronan think, and after a whine he nods, hair fanning out even further on the pillow. “Good,” he promises, reaching up to drag his fingers clumsily across Ronan’s lips, slip the tip of his pointer finger into Ronan’s mouth for just a second. “That’s good, Ro, you’re so good.”

“Fuck me, then,” Ronan says, and Jon laughs breathlessly, but he can’t argue with his logic, picking up the pace once more.

“Kiss me,” Ronan demands next, and Jon should say something about him being bossy, but all of his wit seems to have escaped him, and he bends down to meet Ronan’s mouth with his own. Ronan groans into the kiss, parting his lips with ease, and sinks his teeth into Jon’s lower lip. His hips stutter forward and he comes with a groan, taking him almost by surprise.

He falls still almost immediately but doesn’t move his head away, breathing into Ronan’s mouth as he struggles to catch his breath. Ronan’s eyes are still closed, and he’s lifting his head desperately, but Jon doesn’t kiss back, even as Ronan’s lips slide to his cheek, his chin.

“Jonathan,” Ronan whines, after only a few seconds, biting impishly at his jawline, “Jon, baby, I wanna come.”

“So demanding,” he grumbles, but he moves quickly now, pulling out and before Ronan can even finish his whine, he’s back between his legs, spreading Ronan wide once more and watching, just for a second, as his own come starts to leak out.

He doesn’t look for long, moving forward to lick, hard and slow, up Ronan’s crease, come salty on his tongue as he goes. Ronan shudders, but his hips are grinding down as he pushes his ass onto Jon’s tongue, and he can only oblige, licking deep and strong.

“Please,” Ronan says, and Jon has just enough coherency left to reach up and get his hand around Ronan’s dick, touching him for the first time that night. Ronan whines, high and fragile, and it only takes a second for Jon to match the motion of his hand with his tongue, and only a minute later Ronan’s coming, trembling as he comes down.

Jon licks him through the aftershocks, and then stays there until Ronan’s hands are in his hair, pushing him away almost half-heartedly. Jon wipes his chin a few times before crawling back up the bed, collapsing on top of Ronan the minute he can.

Ronan laughs softly, hand coming up to stroke up Jon’s back, and he hums softly, fitting his leg between Ronan’s as he gets comfortable. “Hey,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Jon’s forehead, and he hums again, kissing Ronan’s chest in return.

“It’s midnight in DC,” Ronan says, and Jon makes a noise of acknowledgement without lifting his head, and Ronan squeezes his shoulder gently. “Hey. Happy seven years.”

He moves now, digging his chin into Ronan’s chest. “Really?”

Ronan grins softly up at him, a little dopey in the way he always gets after sex. “Yeah. You glad you stuck it out?”

He can only lean forward, kissing Ronan slowly and as tenderly as he dares, trying to swallow down all the stupid declarations of love that are threatening to go everywhere. “Jury’s still out,” he says into Ronan’s lips, giving him another quick peck before pillowing his head in the curve of Ronan’s shoulder.

Ronan chuckles, and Jon can feel it, especially as Ronan’s arms tighten around his waist, pulling him closer. “I love you, Jonathan,” he says, and Jon can only reach down to squeeze Ronan’s hand, the warmth in his chest spreading to every bone.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter | tumblr


End file.
